Chapter 3


Sam awoke abruptly a few hours later by Dean shaking him awake. The first thing he noticed was the lighting. It was orange and faint pink; he looked outside his window and saw that the sun was just going down. How long had he been asleep? Sam then looked at the time on the car radio and saw that it was nearly five in the afternoon. Wow.

The second thing Sam noticed was that the car was parked outside a white, rather average looking, two story house with red shutters, and a brown shingled roof, an open garage on the side of the house revealing an old, green Honda Civic parked inside.

Sam's heart stopped when he saw the house number on the mailbox in front of Dean's window. '325' bold and black on the red mailbox.

"This is it, huh?" Sam asked nervously as he eyed Dean warily.

Dean nodded as he looked upon the house, "Yep."

"You ready for this?" Sam asked.

"Probably more ready than you, calm down, it won't be that bad." Dean tried to comfort.

That was easy for him to say though; Dean didn't know everything there is to know about his little brother. Like what was running through his veins for example.

Sam then took a deep breath and got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Dean did the same. They then treaded up the walkway that cut through the freshly cut lawn and stopped at the front door.

They gave each other assuring looks, and then Sam finally knocked on the door a few times.

A moment later, the door swung open to reveal a frantic looking Abigail. She looked almost the same as she did in Sam's dream. Except she seemed to have cut her hair, instead of it going down to the middle of her back, her hair barely grazed her shoulders.

Other than that, she looked exactly the same. And Sam felt like he was in high school all over again as he found himself at a loss for words as he stared into her pale blue eyes.

"Wow," she said simply as a smile crept across her face, "Sam Winchester…it's been a while."

"Y-yea." Sam stammered.

Dean nudged Sam's arm playfully, but Sam didn't pay any attention.

"Still as smooth as ever." Abigail commented.

Sam gave a slightly nervous chuckle, but didn't reply.

Abigail averted her eyes from Sam, to look at Dean.

"This must be your brother…Dean, right? I think I remember him talking about you."

Dean smirked at her, "Ah, you're Abigail I s'pose."

Abigail nodded feverishly, and then opened the door wider.

"Come on in, guys." Abigail invited.

Sam and Dean both nodded curtly, and walked through the threshold stepping past Abigail.

There he was.

Sitting in the middle of the living room floor behind the coffee table and in front of the white leather sofa, looking up at the plasma television sat Clay. Sam was sure of it.

He had Abigail's large, pale blue eyes and Sam's shaggy disheveled hair that fell just in front of his eyes. He also had the same facial features as Sam; it was like a little mini-him with brighter, larger eyes.

Abigail closed the front door behind Dean, and then looked at Clay who was still staring blankly at the television. Almost like he didn't even notice their presence.

Sam shot Dean a quick glance to see if he could maybe catch a glimpse of what was going through Dean's head, but all he saw was blind shock at how much the kid looked almost exactly like Sam.

"Clay baby," Abigail called sweetly causing the child to look away from his program to look at his mother, "this is Sam sweetie…this is your dad." She said softly as she touched Sam's shoulder gently.

Sam gave a warm, nervous smile, and waved. He wasn't sure what else to do.

Abigail then touched Dean's shoulder, "and this…would be your Uncle Dean then, huh."

"Yep." Dean said rather happily as he too waved at the child.

Clay said nothing. He only looked back and forth between Sam and Dean with the same blank look on his face. Then, Clay turned his attention back to the television screen without saying a word.

Sam looked over at Abigail as she pulled her hand off Dean's shoulder with a look of disappointment on her face.

"Did I do something wrong?" Sam questioned.

Abigail shook her head simply, "Come on, we'll talk in the kitchen. Want coffee?"

"Sure." Sam and Dean said in unison as they followed her through the large dining room, into the kitchen.

The kitchen was very well lit and smelled strongly of garlic. Sam rested his elbows on the table in the middle of the kitchen while Dean leaned against the counter and took the green mug that Abigail offered while Sam made a grab for the white mug.

"So what's wrong with him?" Sam asked as Abigail poured the coffee into Dean's cup.

"Okay, this is gonna sound…really, really strange." Abigail warned as she pulled the pot away from Dean's steaming cup and walked over to Sam.

"We can handle it." Dean said with a smile as he sipped his coffee.

Abigail sighed and then began to pour coffee into Sam's mug.

"Well, Clay first off is a genius. Like, rocket scientist genius." Abigail said in a low voice as she pulled the pot away from Sam's mug and walked back to her abandoned cup and poured some coffee for herself.

Dean flashed Sam a 'told you so' look, and then looked back to Abigail.

"But it doesn't stop there…" Abigail said darkly as she put the coffee pot back on the hot tray, and lifted her cup to her lips.

Sam nodded at her, urging her to continue.

She pulled the mug away and took in a deep breath.

"H-he…Clay can do things." She said, sounding actually really scared.

"What kind of things?" Sam asked nervously as he shifted his position as if readying himself for the worst news possible.

"Weird things…Clay can move things….without even touching them." Abigail said in a terrified whisper.

Sam's eyes widened. He was right; his abilities had passed on to his son. No wonder Abigail was so freaked out.

"But that's not all…" She said as she eyed the doorway to the dining room as if Clay could hear her whispers from two rooms away.

She then looked Sam dead in the eye as she continued.

"He doesn't say much…with his mouth, but trust me the kid has other ways of talking." She said nervously.

"Sometimes he can talk to me…in my head." She admitted shakily.

"When did all this start?" Sam demanded wide-eyed.

"A-about two, maybe three years ago. He had real bad headaches, and then he would have these crazy dreams." Abigail said in a dark tone.

"Crazy dreams?" Dean asked worriedly.

"Yea. Like he had this one where this guy got hit by a bus. I didn't think much of it at the time, till two days later I found an article in the paper where a guy was killed by a bus, and Clay told me that was the man he saw getting hit."

"Holy crap." Sam muttered as he brushed his hand across his mouth in frustration.

"I swear, I'm not insane! I'm not making this up; I'm really freaked out by this! I don't know what to do." Abigail admitted as tears fell from her eyes as she sipped her coffee again.

Sam looked at her soulfully, "Don't worry, Abbey. We're not accusing you of making this up. We believe you. We'll figure something out, alright?"

Abigail nodded feverishly as a sob escaped her throat.

At least, Sam hoped they'd figure something out.

Wow, I'm completely blown away by the positive response I've gotten for this story! Thank you guys so much!

Hope you guys like the new chapter. :)